Wes Craven Presents The Breed DVDReview

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This is one DVD that should never, ever breed.

By Adam DiLeo

You can judge a horror film by how satisfying the first successful retaliation against the bad guy feels. The villain/monster/miscellaneous enemy is always going to strike the first blow, usually the first several. But usually somewhere toward the end of the second act the good guys score one for the home team. Even if their victory is short-lived and retribution comes swiftly and exponentially more severely, this gives the audience a bit of a rest and cause to celebrate and keep hoping for a happy ending. With the greats, the sense of release is palpable&#Array;you'd have to be a monster yourself if you didn't rejoice the first time the devil screams in pain in The Exorcist, and who didn't cheer "Hit him again!" when Jaime Lee Curtis poked Michael Myers in the eye with a coat hanger?

For every good example, there are a dozen or more lame horror flicks trying to go too far on an empty tank. Take for example The Breed, which tells the story of what happens when "Girls Gone Wild" meets rabid dogs gone wild. When the besieged 20-somethings finally land a decent hit on the feral canines stalking them, it's far from satisfying. Just the opposite, it seems unfair and even cruel. Sure, those pups have been chewing up the cast for a good 45 minutes, but it takes a special skill to make an audience want to see man's best friend get skewered. Kujo did a remarkable job in that regard, but despite references to that venerable classic both visual and verbal, The Breed doesn't even come close.

After a predictably gruesome prologue, The Breed's story proper begins with a group of friends traveling by seaplane to a huge private island recently inherited by a pair of rich brothers: straight laced med student Matt (Eric Lively) and perennial screw-up Johnny (Oliver Hudson). The two are joined by tough gal Nicki (Michelle Rodriguez), sexy Sara (Taryn Manning) and wisecracking Noah (Hill Harper). Their idyllic long weekend starts off well enough&#Array;lounging by the water, drinking margaritas and shamelessly setting up the environmental elements and props that will come into play later on. There are several scenes focusing on an old zip line, another set demonstrating Nicki's rock climbing skills, Johnny's fondness for an old bow and arrow set, etc. Once the artless foreshadowing is over, we get to the good stuff. The gang comes across a sweet but strangely oversized puppy that eventually alerts its grown-up brethren that fresh meat has wandered onto the island. From there it's an improbably close contest between man and beast as the fearful friends search for a way off the island.

Now dogs can be scary, no doubt. There's a lot of power behind those wagging tails, and sometimes even the best trained dogs can be inadvertently incited into taking a chunk out of an unsuspecting hand. But what keeps them from taking over the world is the reality that we humans, being the dominant species and all, have a much better command of things like guns, cars, and, you know, doorknobs. To address this problem and keep the scares coming after the cast has successfully barricaded itself inside the cabin, the script repeatedly points out that part of the island was once rented out to dog trainers, who may actually have been government experimenters. Not wanting to make the audience do any imagining, a trip to the attic reveals incontrovertible proof that, yes, these dogs have been genetically modified, which accounts for the cunning choice to untether the seaplane and let it drift off to seas. One would think they might as well hop in the cockpit and dive bomb the house while they're at it, but the scene is redeemed by the ludicrous image of Johnny swimming away in terror as two of the growling beasties plunge into the water and give chase via doggie paddle. Truly terrifying.

The complex relationships between the core cast&#Array;and credit should be given for at least attempting to create an ensemble&#Array;are hinted at throughout the film, even if they're not terribly well developed. Most of them have known each other since childhood and it seems various romantic intrigues have sprung up, been extinguished or passed around. There are vague allusions to Matt and Johnny's abusive father, scenes discussing Johnny's brief affair with Nicki and the torch Sara carries for Johnny.

Unfortunately none of this backstory informs the narrative. About the best use that ever comes of any of these efforts at fleshing out the characters' pasts is the odd poetic line of dialogue, often coming out of the blue to offer some respite from the nauseating party-kids-in-danger cliches. At one point, Sara stares blankly out the window toward Johnny and says ominously, "So sad. I waited ten years for him to notice me. I feel like it's over." Her obvious yet understated remorse accurately captures the mood of their plight, and it's really too bad there aren't more moments like it, since a little more character would have made their efforts to stay alive a little more interesting.